


You Won't Wake Up Alone

by DawnsEternalLight



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Batdad Hug, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 11:44:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12726021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: Dick's captured and drugged and probably about to die. The last thing he wants to do is die in front of his family, especially not his baby brothers, all he wants is to be with Bruce and feel safe again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CamsthiSky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamsthiSky/gifts).



> Cam said there wasn't enough of Bruce hugging Dick in the world so I decided to help even the scales a bit. Also yes, I do know I'm on a bit of a Forever Evil thing, listen there's a lot A LOT of emotional trauma with that and Dick needs chances to work through it.

Dick had died once. He had died and it had been just like this. Well okay, not exactly. He’d been in a machine instead of strapped down. He’d been delirious from pain and not some weird drug running through his system. He’d died not because of the pain or the machine but because of a man. He’d been murdered. Just like he was about to be.

Then it had been fast, one pill, a few seconds, and he was gone. He’d come back almost as fast, but that had no bearing on now. Now there was no adrenaline shot primed to start his heart. Now he just had this stupid burning poison racing through his veins taking forever.

He kept blacking out. He kind of wished he’d just stay out. Every moment he was awake again meant his head would pound and his eyes would water. It meant he could feel the raspiness of his throat, and the rawness to his wrists from hours of fruitless attempts at escape. Every moment he was awake he was reminded he was alone, until the time he wasn’t.

Hands tugging at his bound wrists were never comfortable, especially not when rough gloves brushed against torn skin, and pulled. And it was loud now. Didn’t they know his head hurt? All the noise only made it worse.

He’d stopped opening his eyes at some point, it took too much energy only to have them droop closed again, but he made an exception for the persistent fingers irritating his wrist.

“Richard.” his name was a breath on Robin’s lips.

Dick blinked, his eyes trying to make sense of the boy beside him. Red, yellow, green blended together.

“Dames?” he asked, unsure his voice even worked anymore.

“It is alright, Grayson. Everything will be okay.” Damian said, before looking up and at someone across from him, “Hurry up with that lock pick, Drake.”  

“Names, Robin.” Dick heard from his right.

“It’s fine.” Damian shot back, “I would worry about getting that stupid cuff off him.”

It wasn’t okay or fine or any of the lies his brothers might tell him. None of this was okay. There was a lurch in his stomach, a sick ache that twisted with the pain already there. He should be happy for the rescue, but something inside told Dick they were too late. Too late to save him. Too late for anything. The poison had been raging longer than Dick cared to remember. Everything hurt, and he was going to die. In front of his brothers. His little brothers.

“No.” he rasped, “Go.”

Damian’s attention was back on him now, and he could almost see the boy’s eyes widening behind the lenses of his domino.

“Do not be an idiot, Grayson. We are getting you out of here.”

“No.” Dick said, again, pushing past the rasp to be heard, “You need to leave.”

This was just like when he’d died. Not just like. Bruce had been there. Now Damian was. And Tim. If Dick’s unlucky streak kept going Jason was going to be close by. They were going to see him die. His little brothers were going to see him die.

Dick knew what watching a brother die looked like. He knew what watching a father die looked like. He knew they would be seeing both. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let Damian see him die. It would crush him. Dick had no illusions about his relationship with the boy. How he viewed Dick. Dick had been crushed when he’d lost Bruce. This would crush his brother, and Dick couldn’t live with that. Couldn’t live with doing that to either of these boys.

“Go!” He yelled, pulling at the restraints again, not caring how they cut and burned against his skin, he’d do whatever he could to get them to leave. “Get out, just go! Leave me here!”

“Richard!”

Dick ignored the fear in Damian’s voice. It would only be worse if they stayed. Everything hurt. He was going to die. They were going to see him die.

He pulled again, “You can’t stay! You have to go!”

“Dick, listen if there’s something here that’s going to hurt us, tell us now.” Tim’s voice was calm, the tremor of fear almost masked under his work tone.

How could Dick tell them that he was going to die? They’d just stay by his side. He’d hurt them more. Pain now would be better than them watching him die.

“Just go!” Dick yelled, and then he was blubbering.

He had no idea what was coming out of his mouth but it was everything he could think of to get them to go, everything that wasn’t _I’m dying, and I’d die faster if you saw it happen._ He had to protect them, no matter how much it hurt. He couldn’t- he couldn’t-- he couldn’t let them see--

“Dick! Stop it!” Tim’s voice broke him out of his panic.

“Look at me.” It was a command he couldn’t refuse.

He turned his head and felt a tear slip past his upper lip, pulled off track from where it had been falling. When had he started crying?

“Listen, they poisoned you right? It’s going to kill you if we don’t get you out of here, so unless there’s a bomb strapped under you or something equally bad we need to get you out of here and back to the cave where the antidote is. Okay?”

Dick couldn’t move. Tim knew. Damian knew. They knew, and there was time. There was time. He wasn’t going to die, and they wouldn’t have to watch it. They could go. Dick didn’t care how Tim knew. Didn’t care that the hands at his wrist were even softer now than they’d been, that it still burned. There was time, and his baby brothers wouldn’t have to see him die.

Somehow they got the straps off him and hauled him up. Dick couldn’t walk, instead he tried not to be dead weight, strung between them, but found it too hard to stumble.

“It will be okay, Grayson.” Damian’s voice wavered as he said the words.

Dick had put that tremor there. He’d been so sure. So confident. So happy to find him alive. And Dick had terrified him. He felt sick, and it wasn’t the poison or pain this time. He’s hurt his brothers. But there was time to make that up, as long as they actually made it to the cave.

He wasn’t proud of it, but he blacked out again, coming to when Damian stumbled and shook him on his left. He blinked over at the boy and wished he could help Damian, but then who would help Dick?

Jason caught Damian, when did Jason get here? He helped him get his balance, and held him back as a larger figure took Damian’s place by Dick’s side. Dick tired to look up, but he was getting dizzy from all this moving.

“How’s he doing?” Bruce’s voice rumbled above his head.

He let the conversation wash over him. The voices of his family like the tide coming in and filling all the empty, aching, space in his head. He didn’t want to pass out while they were here, he was afraid this was all a dream. He was afraid it was all  dream.

Had he not died yet?

Was he about to die?

Could this all be a last attempt of his mind to help him escape the loneliness of being strapped to a giant bomb? Was everything just his trying to find some hope? Was he still all alone in that room, trapped in that machine, just waiting for it to go off? Waiting for Luthor to show up and shove a heart stopping pill down his throat. Waiting to die.

He was being tucked into the back of a car, and Damian pressed close to his side, his too small hand finding Dick’s battered one.

“We’re almost there, Richard.” he said, his voice tiny in the car, “We will get you the antidote and you will be okay.” he squeezed Dick’s hand. “You will be okay.”

Dick leaned over and let his head rest on Damian’s. Damian who was alive. Damian who didn’t have a gaping hole in his chest.

If he were really back in that room with that bomb he wouldn’t pretend Damian was here. No he’d be looking forward to joining his brother again. But if he had him here, and now, and he was solid, and scared, and trying so so hard not to be. Well, Dick could believe he was really here. Could believe they were both here.

“I love you so much, kiddo.” he whispered into Damian’s hair.

His brother responded by pressing a little closer into his side.

Another brother joined him on his open side, adding his warmth to the tiny burning one next to Dick.

“Don’t smother him, Damian.” Tim’s voice was a gentle reprimand, without real heat, especially as he pressed himself close to Dick’s side.

Dick closed his eyes and listened to Damian and Tim bicker quietly. As Jason and Bruce climbed in, and finally he let himself fall asleep to the rumble of the engine carrying them far away from this terrible place.

The next time he woke up everything around him was quiet. He was laying in his bed in the manor, tucked in like he was ten again. His head didn’t hurt so much anymore. And the sick, wrong feeling in his veins was gone. Calmed with whatever antidote they’d given him.

There was a light next to him, and he found Bruce seated in a chair by the bed, attention on his phone. His slight shifting must have caught his father’s attention, because Bruce looked up at that moment and their eyes locked. The phone was set on the end table, face down.

“You gave us quite the scare.” He said, a small smile on his face. 

“Sorry.” Dick said, unable to find a smile of his own.

“You okay?” Bruce asked, reaching forward to brush Dick’s hair back off his forehead, “The boys told me about how they found you.”

“I’m good.” He lied, and he still couldn’t find a smile to add some truth to it.

Bruce nodded, and went to pull his hand away, but Dick caught it, sudden panic rising in his chest. Bruce couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t. Dick didn’t want to be alone. All he’d been was alone. Then and now. Bruce couldn’t leave him.

“Bru--” his voice caught on tears as they spilled out in place of Bruce’s name.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” Bruce said, somehow already on the bed next to Dick.

Dick pushed himself up, and into his dad’s chest, sobs replacing words. It had been terrible. He was not fine or good or okay. He’d almost died again. Almost died in front of his little brothers. He’d been helpless to stop it. Helpless to prevent their lives being ruined. Helpless like he’d been when it was Bruce standing before him, having to make the decision of whether to leave him or stay.

Bruce’s chest was warm, his arms tight as they wrapped around Dick’s back, pulling him closer. One hand moved away to brush at Dick’s bangs again, pushing them back again and again as he mussed them up, burying his face in Bruce’s shirt, and sobbing.

“I waited for you.” he managed. “I wanted you to come.”

“I did.” Bruce’s chest rumbled with his voice, “I came, Dick. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. Jay and I were making sure they weren’t going to come after you again.”

“I almost died. I almost died in front of Damian, Bruce. I almost-” he hiccuped, and cried harder.

It was like then and now were crashing together. All the hurt coming out in his tears. All the fear bleeding out in the heaving of his chest as he sucked in breath just to keep living. He’d wanted this so badly then. He wanted this so badly now. He wanted so much.

Bruce’s arm tightened around him, his other hand untangling knots in Dick’s hair.

“It’s okay, Dick. It’s okay.” he murmured. “You’re okay.”

Dick cried forever. He didn’t care how loud he was being. Didn’t care that he’d soaked Bruce’s chest with his tears. Didn’t care that it was something a little boy would do. Everything hurt and the only thing that made it better were the tears coming out in floods.

“I’m sorry.” Bruce tried, and it had only made Dick cry harder.

“It’s okay.” he comforted, and Dick’s fist pounded on his chest.

“I love you.” Bruce whispered, as the fight and pain finally seemed to leave.

Dick’s chest stopped feeling like it was trapped in a vice and he curled up in his dad’s lap. He would not allow himself to be alone again. So, he curled there even though he didn’t fit anymore. Curled there as Bruce’s hand finished untangling his hair, as his other rubbed soothing circles in his back.

Bruce hadn’t said much. He didn’t need to. He never needed to. He was there, that’s what mattered. He was there holding Dick. Not judging him for breaking to pieces.

When Bruce moved it was gentle. Easing Dick first off his lap before moving him under the blankets. He didn’t want to leave Bruce’s arms, but he knew they both needed to rest. He didn’t expect Bruce to slip under the covers next to him. It was something Dick might do with Damian. Something Bruce would have done when Dick was a kid.

There was no hesitancy as he pulled Dick close again. Dick wasted no time finding a comfortable fit against Bruce, curling into him, arms wrapped around him. Snug was the word. He was snug. He fit, perfectly tucked against his dad’s chest. He was safe. Wrapped in a hold he actually wanted. Held in place by something comforting. Bruce was warm where the bomb had been freezing. He was safe where Dick had been terrified.

“I’ve got you.” Bruce told him, “Sleep, Dick. You won’t wake up alone.”

Dick knew he could believe this promise, so he sighed, snuggled just a bit closer, and let himself drift back off again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting to write a follow up to this, but it happened anyway. Here's the sibling cuddling Dick missed out on in the last part.

The thing that sucked most about almost dying again was the fact that Dick was forced to stay in bed longer than he wanted to be. It wasn’t even Bruce or Alfred glaring him into submission this time. Dick honestly didn’t want to move. He was tired, and everything still ached. Even he agreed that bed was the best thing for him.

Still, his bed was starting to get pretty lonely. It was too quite in his room. Alfred only came by every so often. Bruce had gone back to work. Everyone else filtered back into their lives. Sure, Damian had been around, Tim and Jason too. But Dick wanted to move, and he wanted company to be around all the time. Instead he was staying put.

He wasn’t staying in bed because it meant he didn’t have to face his little brothers. He wasn’t staying in bed because any time he saw Damian he remembered how terrified he’d looked, and the tremble Dick had forced into his voice. Or because he remembered how he’d hurt them trying to save them.

He was staying because it was best.

Not because Damian seemed to be a little more distant than usual. Or because Tim kept eyeing him like he was about to start screaming again. Sometimes Dick could be such an idiot. What else was he supposed to do? How else should he have reacted? Let them stay? He’d thought- he’d thought he was about to die. He’d done the right thing. He had.

Jason was the only one that seemed to get that. Coincidentally he was the only one sticking close.

 _“Alf’s got me on babysitting duty, that’s all.”_ He’d said when Dick had jokingly thanked him for being so attentive.

He was currently planted in the chair beside Dick reading a copy of Nancy Drew The Secret of the Old Clock by Dick’s request. It was easy, enjoyable, and something he had been kind of hoping would lure either Tim or Damian into the room through curiosity.

“Are you even listening?” Jason asked, glancing up from the pages.

“Course.” Dick grinned at him.

Jason snapped the book closed, “Don’t lie, it’s unbecoming. I just told you Nancy got abducted by aliens.”

Dick’s grin turned sheepish, “Sorry, I’m just antsy you know?”

Jason leaned back, “It’s your own fault.” He said, without heat, “There are better ways to get attention than almost dying, you know.”

“If I’d asked you to read Nancy Drew to me last week you would have thrown the book at me.” Dick pointed out.

Jason grinned, “I would have added that you’re perfectly capable of reading on your own. You still are, you just get my pity ths time.”

“That’s something I’ll take any day of the week.” Dick winked, “Especially with how boring it’s getting just laying here.”

“Again,” Jason pointed the book at him, “Better ways to do things than getting yourself stuck in bed.”

Dick smiled at him, “Thank you though, really.”

Jason waved him off, “Least I could do.”

A single knock and quiet, “Richard?” made him them both turn.

“Looks like my relief is here. Don’t do anything dumb while I’m away.” Jason said, standing.

Dick nodded, he should have smiled, but it was like he’d suddenly forgotten how, as guilt twisted his stomach. He and Jason might have talked things out, but Dick also hadn’t screamed at Jason to leave him to die. He hadn’t terrified him that something beyond being caught and poisoned was wrong with him.

“Hey, Damian.” He said, his lips at least turning up with his brother’s name. It was always easier to smile when he said Damian’s name.

“Pennyworth asked me to change your bandages.” Damian held up a small bag of supplies as he walked in, nodding at Jason as he passed him on his way out.  

Dick waved him over, pushing himself higher against the headboard so he was sitting up fully. He then inched over a bit to give Damian room to sit on the bed next to him. It was easier for them both if Damian was close.

Damian hesitated for a second before moving over to the bed. Dick’s heart ached at that moment of hesitation. His brother never hesitated. Especially when he was helping Dick. He must be furious at Dick for yelling the way he did. And if not furious, still terrified. Probably both.

Dick reached out to help Damian up onto the bed, his brother grabbed his wrist on accident and Dick hissed as pain made him jerk back. Damian stumbled back to the ground and paled, eyes going wide.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.” He said, taking a step back.

“It’s okay.” Dick said, “It’s fine, I’m alright. It was more of a surprise than anything.” He gave Damian his best smile, “Really, Dames.”

He held his hand out again, and this time when Damian took it he pulled him up easily. Soon, he was seated next to Dick, his legs crossed, bag tucked between them. He was frowning down at it, pulling out supplies as he did so. He laid out gauze, tape, and Alfred’s special medicated cream on the table beside them, before looking back up at Dick.

“Hand.” He said, holding out one of his.

Dick let him take his left hand and rest it on his knee, his fingers gentle as they pulled the old gauze off, and then as the examined Dick’s wrist for any signs of infection. When he was satisfied, he slathered the cool lotion onto Dick’s wrist. The lotion was soothing and cold and it felt so good he wanted to sigh. He didn’t. Damian was too tense. His actions might be gentle, but everything else about his brother was tight, taught with something he wasn’t telling Dick. He didn’t look scared anymore. So, it wasn’t that. He also didn’t seem angry. Dick knew Damian when he was angry, he didn’t just hold it in. Even for Dick. It was something else bothering him. The way he’d reacted when he came in, and to accidentally hurting Dick was proof enough of that.

Damian finished wrapping Dick’s wrist and moved silently onto the next one. His attention completely on the task. He looked so serious about it. It reminded Dick of when he’d been Batman and Damian had personally seen to fixing him up when he’d thought things were his fault.

“Damian?” Dick asked.

His brother hummed a response, turning his wrist over to check the other side before gently returning his hand to rest on his knee. His hands already moving back to the tub of cream.

“You, you’re not blaming yourself for this are you?”

Damian froze, fingers dipped in the cream, and looked up at him, lips pressed together.

“Of course not.” He said, life coming back into him.

He lifted Dick’s hand again, but there was a tremble he couldn’t hide while doing this task. Dick wanted to reach out and take Damian’s hand or push his hair back. Anything to make another connection, but he didn’t want to interrupt Damian halfway through this either.

Instead he picked at the blanket beneath him, “It’s not your fault.”

“I said I wasn’t blaming myself, Grayson.” Damian snapped.

“I know.” Dick told him, keeping his voice easy, “I just wanted you to know. I don’t blame you for not being there sooner, or for anything that happened.”

Damian finished applying the cream and started wrapping Dick’s wrist, a scowl on his face. That was wrong. Damian didn’t scowl when Dick told him something like that. He’d argue the point, or get quiet, but he didn’t scowl at Dick.

“Dames?”

“No.” Damian said, taping down the end of the gauze. “Don’t.”

“What do you mean?” Dick asked, as his brother dropped his hand.

Damian ignored him, and made to scoot off the bed, but Dick’s hands were free now, so he reached out and grabbed Damian’s hand. “Stop, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

How had he messed this up this bad? Why couldn’t he just help Damian? Help to soothe some of the pain he’d caused, in whatever way he’d done it. If he couldn’t help Damian he had no chance smoothing things over with Tim. Dick wanted things to be right again. Or not right, but better. More than that he wanted to pull Damian into his arms and hold him there. Breathe in the fact that his brother was alive, and that he was alive to enjoy the fact.

And yeah, Dick also wanted a hug. He wanted Damian to feel better, and wanted to be comforted by his little brother. He’d been hoping to hold him sooner, let his warmth seep into his cold skin and melt away the lingering fear from everything that happened. But things had been weird.

“Please.” He tried again.

“I do not believe you.” Damian said, eyes cast down at the bed. “I don’t believe that you do not blame me. Usually I have no problem with believing it. But—”

Dick took Damian’s other hand, “But?”

His brother looked up at him eyes red. “But you have been angry at me since you got back.”

Dick closed his eyes and breathed. Because now he was angry, but not at Damian. Never at Damian. “I’m not. I haven’t been.” He said, opening his eyes to look at Damian, “I promise.”

“But, you have been distant. Unhappy. At first, I believed you were angry that I failed to prevent this happening. But.” Damian broke off again, searching for the words. “Now I am afraid that you did not wish us to save you.”

 _Crap,_ Dick thought. _Double crap._ This was not what he'd meant Damian to think. Nowhere near. 

Damian’s eyes started to water, and he swallowed. Like he was pushing back tears. Because he was afraid Dick had wanted to die.

“Damian, no. No, I—I didn’t mean that. I meant the opposite. I didn’t want... I thought...” Now tears caught in Dick’s throat, “I thought I was going to die, Damian. I thought the poison was already too far gone, and I didn’t want you to see me die. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Damian blinked at him, “You wanted to be saved?”

“Of course, I did, kiddo. You think I’d want to leave you behind again?” Dick moved a hand up to cup Damian’s face, “I told you. I love you so much. The last thing I wanted to do was die, worst of all in front of my baby brothers.”

“Then, you are not mad at me? Or Drake?”

Dick shook his head, “Not at all.”

“Good.” Damian nodded. “Richard?”

“Yeah?” Dick said.

Damian’s hand moved to the one on his cheek, “May I stay with you for a while?

Dick answered by pulling Damian into a hug and falling backward onto the bed. Damian squawked in surprise and pushed at his chest.

“I did not mean like this, Grayson!” he said, as Dick laughed the first full laugh he’d had in days.

He let go long enough for the both of them to find a comfortable position on the bed and then wrapped his arms back around Damian. He was relieved to find Damian seemed just as eager to be close to him, pressing close and slipping his arms around Dick’s torso.

They lay together for a few minutes until Damian sniffled, “I am happy you are okay.” He said. “I did not get to tell you that before.”

Damian pressed closer to him, like he was trying to meld with Dick, “I was worried, Grayson. When you went missing, I was afraid we would not make it in time. I-we almost did not.”

“I’m sorry,” Dick said, and now that he’d said it, it was like there was a flood of sorrys that needed out, “I’m so sorry I scared you, and that I hurt you. I’m sorry I got caught, and that I worried you and everyone else. I’m so sorry.”

Everything hurt again, but it was like all the pain was trying to get out, and all Dick could do was curl around his brother, and pull him as close as possible. And Damian was so small, so tiny, Dick could literally wrap himself around the kid. He was so small, and so young, and Dick had almost died in front of him. He’d terrified him, and then made him think the worst things.

“I’m so so so sorry.” Dick said, the words flooding out of him and it was like he wasn’t saying sorry for the other day anymore. This was from deep in him, and maybe it wasn’t even for Damian. Maybe it was for himself. To let himself be in the face of everything. To say it was okay to be broken and that it was okay to fall apart like this. Sorry and okay.

Damian pressed close to him, “I love you, Grayson.” He whispered, “I love you and it is okay. It will be okay.”

That's all it took. Damian's words. The one's he'd wanted so badly when he'd died. The one's he'd needed from everyone. Dick tightened his hold, like that of a man holding onto driftwood in an ocean. Like Damian was the only thing anchoring him to the hear and now. He'd died. Damian had died. Dick had wanted, he'd  _needed_ to be back with Damian. The loss of missing him had hurt before and after he'd been stuck in that machine. And having him here, was like a balm. It soothed over the places that had already started healing with Bruce. It softened the hard edge of pain in Dick's chest. Damian was here. He was alive. They'd both made it. Made it back. Made it here. 

Dick stayed that way, wrapped around his little brother, just feeling him breath, enjoying the warmth of being close to him, and letting all the broken pieces of himself settle. They weren’t fixed. Dick wasn’t sure those pieces would ever be fixed. Not after the bomb. Not after dying. Not after losing Damian. But they were better.

At some point he loosened his desperate hold on his brother and curled lightly around him, Damian shifting slightly to snuggle his face close to Dick’s shoulder. The relaxed position had almost lulled Dick to sleep when there was a sound from the door. The hinges creaking slightly.

“Oh, sorry.” Tim said, as Dick looked up, lifting his head.

“It’s alright, Timmy. Want to join?” Dick asked, holding and arm out.

Tim eyed them for a moment before sighing, “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.” Dick said, waving his hand towards himself so Tim would come.

His brother stepped into the room and approached the bed, making like he was going to sit down, but Dick shook his head.

“Lay with us?” he asked.

Tim didn’t argue, just changed his trajectory to the other side of the bed. He plopped down as Dick shifted, pulling a groggy Damian away from his side so Dick could lay on his back.

“Mmm, don’t leave, Grayson.”

“Just making room, Lil’ D.” Dick whispered, and planted a kiss on the top of Damian’s head.

Dick kept one arm wrapped around Damian, and slid the other around Tim to drag him close, his brother moving without much prompting.

“Thanks.” Dick sighed.

Having the two of them there was grounding. Settling. Like the rest of the worry fluttering around in Dick’s chest was finally finding some weight and landing. Like some of those pieces that had been broken when Dick had died were starting to mend at least a little bit. It didn’t fix things, having both close, but it made them better. He had his family here. His brothers with him. Jason had stuck close, his words keeping Dick sane, and now he had the younger ones tucked close. Solid. Alive. There. Everything Dick fought for, everything he loved, tucked against his sides. 

“You okay?” Tim asked, after a moment.

“Getting there.” He answered.

Tim nodded and shifted a bit closer, “Good. You scared us, Dick.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Dick told him.

This time the sorry didn’t feel as shattering. It felt good. Like he was getting somewhere with it, instead of running in circles in his head unsaid.

“Thank you for coming after me.” Dick said, “Thanks for yelling some sense into me too.”

Tim’s head found the spot between Dick’s neck and shoulder, “It’s what I’m here for. The Babybat was just going to freak out, and you already were.”

“Was not.” Came a sleepy voice from Dick’s other side.

“You’d gone about as pale as I am. You were either about to freak out or die.” Tim yawned.

“Grayson, tell Drake he is an idiot.” Damian said, curling a bit closer to Dick.

“Dick, tell Damian to go to sleep.” Tim said, moving to almost mirror Damian.

Dick settled for pulling them both a bit closer, “Why don’t I just say I love you both and leave it at that?”

“That is acceptable.”

“’s not like you need to say it, but thanks.”

Things weren’t perfect yet, but this was pretty close, Dick decided as he settled himself back against his pillow and listened to his two youngest brother’s breathing even out to the deep kind that came with sleep. 


End file.
